


The Transience Of Always

by dustbunnyprophet



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Does this ship have a name?, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Freeform, Rare Pairings, Romance, idk babichevich, why do I always end up with the rarepairs?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 17:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10365693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbunnyprophet/pseuds/dustbunnyprophet
Summary: Unlike Georgi, Mila was not a romantic. She had no illusions of happily ever after. Life was just a limited span of time that shortened with each passing day, and Mila was not going to miss out on it. She was not going to wait for something that was never going to happen.No matter how much she wished or it.A Mila/Georgi oneshot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a [Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5677439) translation curtesy of [Eskalin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eskalin/pseuds/Eskalin)

 

 

_“love is less always than to win_ _  
_ _less never than alive”_

_E.E. Cummings, [love is more thicker than forget]_

 

Mila looked at him from afar. Like she had always done. She was in a relationship, a feeble thing with a hockey player. Something she knew would eventually end one way or the other. But even as she readied herself for a date with her boyfriend, she still looked at _him_. And a tiny pinprick of something unnamed stirred under her breastbone. Like it had always done.

It was a familiar ache Mila has learned to live with. It would thrum in her chest every time Georgi gushed over his girlfriend, singing his praises with a poetry Anya did not deserve. But maybe Mila was biased. Maybe the dark-haired ice dancer truly was a princess underneath her cheap lipstick and cold eyes. Maybe Georgi saw something that eluded her, some quintessence of light and love buried deep under the fake smiles and coquettish attitude. It was not her place to judge. So she kept her mouth shut. At the end of the day it was not her business. No matter how much she wished it were.

Days strung into weeks and Mila broke up with the hockey player. It had been a relationship with an expiration date for her. All of them were. In the two years since she had joined the senior division and moved to Saint Petersburg to be coached by Yakov, Mila had always breezed through her dates, never truly settling down. Because no matter how much they tried, their eyes were always the wrong shade of blue and their voice was not quite the right pitch. And she could admit it to herself. After all this time it would be pointless to lie to herself, to pretend that the prickle of wistfulness which was permanently lodged between her lungs had nothing to do with it.

But she didn’t let it faze her. She couldn’t. So she trudged on, smiling brightly and flirting with ease, hiding the ache that lingered under layers of bubblegum pink lipstick and just the right sway of her hips. Unlike him she was not a romantic, she had no illusions of happily ever after. Life was just a limited span of time that shortened with each passing day, and Mila was not going to miss out on it. She was not going to wait for something that was never going to happen. No matter how much she wished or it.

It was the beginning of April and the season had just finished when everything broke apart. Or at the very least, Georgi’s heart did. Mila watched from the sidelines as Anya left him, and all the passion he used to channel in his adoration of the brunette, turned sour. They were all having a couple of weeks off so Mila didn’t get to see the drama unfold. She only got the seismic waves that  crashed through the social networks. But it took her almost a week until she truly saw the magnitude of it all.

She returned to Piter on the last week of April and something clenched painfully under her breastbone when she realised what a mess Georgi had turned into. It quickly morphed into an explosive mixture of anger and pain, and it took all of her willpower to stop herself from clawing Anya’s eyes out. Because she may not be entitled to him, she was just his rinkmate, the stupid figure skater who had too many feelings for him, but she could not stand to see him suffer so. She wanted to lash out, to make Anya feel even just a fraction of what Georgi was going through. But it was not her place. It was not her place. So she plastered the most genial smile she could on her face and joked. Like she had always done.

Her life was made of always. She clung to these constants like a drowning man, and maybe she was afraid. Maybe she cradled her always close to her chest because she didn’t know what awaited beyond the horizon of her certainties and small pleasures she allowed herself. Maybe she was afraid to commit to the indetermination of a future. To gamble everything and hope the landing caught the blade on the right edge. Instead of sending her crashing on the ice in a heap of broken bones. And perhaps it was that which drew her to him. Georgi had never been afraid to give his everything, to put all his money on the off chance of it being the right one, the right time. He truly believed in a happily ever after.

And maybe Mila didn’t truly think it was foolish to hope for that. Maybe she was only scared it was not in store for her. Maybe it was easier to pretend these things were transient, than facing the ugly possibility of having to knit back a broken heart.

Georgi was hurting. He skated his heartbreak, and it was painful to watch. There was so much. Everything about him had always been a shade too much. And now it was a dark tide that swept everything under. A gaping abyss that swallowed the light in his eyes, leaving only the sheen of tears.

Mila watched it on the television and she laughed. Because her own heart was breaking and it was easier to laugh than acknowledge that this particular _always_ ran deeper than she thought. That she may had been adamant in refusing to hope, but a small stupid part of her had never stopped nurturing that emotion, dreaming of impossible things. But she didn’t want to face that. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

In the weeks that followed Mila decided she was a coward. As the season dragged on and Georgi’s heartbreak stopped bleeding out on the ice, turning into wistful sighs and long looks thrown into the distance, it became harder to pretend with herself. To not hope. To stop herself from throwing inconspicuous glances at him, and summoning the sight in the dark hours of the night when her sleep eluded her and she tossed and turned under the covers, in spite of her body begging for rest after the gruesome training regimen she subjected it to.

But in spite of the storm raging under her breastbone, Mila did nothing. She told herself she didn’t want to cause him more heartbreak, because after all she never meant for any of her past relationships to last. But she knew it was an excuse at best. Because the inescapable truth was that Mila was afraid. Afraid of being rejected.

They were friends, in that strange way she was friends with the rest of her teammates. She had no way of knowing if she could ever stand a chance. And she didn’t want to find out.

So she let it simmer, for once passing the opportunity of getting another boyfriend or two. There was no shortage of supply, but Mila didn’t have it in her to go through the motions once again, to do her part, let the thing run its course. Rinse and repeat. She still smiled merrily, painting her lips pink and seducing the ice when she skated. But it felt like a mask more than ever. Greyness was tugging at the edges of her vision, and the only bright colour was the blue of Georgi’s eyes when he stared into the distance, reminiscing or thinking. She didn’t know. She didn’t _want_ to know.

She was a liar.

She did.

The season dragged on and the Grand Prix finished, but they had Nationals and Euros, and later Worlds to compete at. And so they all skated earnestly. The weeks turned into months and medals piled in her bedside drawer, while Georgi kept etching his sorrow onto the ice.

It was summer when the world came to a screeching halt and abruptly changed direction. Saint Petersburg in summer was made of days that never ended as the night sky hovered above the bay tinged in the white of a sun which stubbornly refused to set. Mila had finished practice, and her aching muscles tingled almost pleasantly under her sweats and shirt. There was something exhilarating in the process of learning a new choreography. And for a while it distracted her mind her from the same old same old train of thoughts. From thinking about him.

As the months rolled through, Georgi had carved himself an ever expanding spot in her consciousness. And it had become harder and harder to pretend, to hide her growing feelings from him. The ice had come to her rescue. The demanding free skate Yakov was having her master had occupied most of her time and it felt so good to be able to distract herself.

But perhaps it had removed her too much from her surroundings, because as she made her way towards the exit of the rink she suddenly found herself walking side by side with Georgi. She had no idea what expression crossed her face, but Georgi gave her a small amused smile which elicited an eyeroll from her. They made their way out of the rink in silence. They never talked much. Mila’s naturally chatty disposition had always seemed to quiet in his presence. There was something calming about that. Relaxing.

The comfortable silence carried their feet towards the bus stop. But as they reached it they silently exchanged looks, and a lopsided smile later they were walking past it and towards the city centre.

Piter was huge. And there were many miles separating the rink from their respective homes, but somehow it didn’t matter. The sky was slowly growing milky white above them, and the light reflected off the river as they made their way across one the countless bridges. She glanced to her left and saw Georgi looking at it with a mixture of awe and inspiration. And something clenched around her lungs, making it hard to breathe. It was the first time in over a year she had seen him completely at ease. And it threatened to shatter the tentative balance she had reached between her unfortunate feelings and the need to keep going no matter what.

They kept walking, strolling down the large streets and basking in the silence, broken only by the sounds of the city buzzing around them.

“Piter is really beautiful.” he said at last and Mila turned her head to him, humming.

“Yeah, I forget about it in the rush.” she admitted, thinking about all the years she has been living in Piter now, but never really spending time to appreciate it, to just drown herself in the beauty of it.

“Sometimes we get so used to a sight we never stop and marvel at it.” Georgi told her, but when she drew her eyes away from the city and looked at him, she saw his eyes were locked on her. Oh.

His blue eyes were bright and Mila felt her heart skip a beat. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came forth. There was no witty remark, no teasing, nothing. Her mind reeled. Because she knew what he had meant. She was fluent in Georgi speech after three years. But it was not her language.

So she replied in her own way, stepping closer and stopping just a hairbreadth from touching him. She lifted her head and looked at him square in the eye. It was a question, an offer, the open ending to a story that could end either way. But she wanted it to be a happy one. Oh, god, she really wanted that, as stupid as it was. She may had run from it for the longest time, but standing there, the evening turning into a white night, and Saint Petersburg alive around them while she held her breath standing so close she could almost touch Georgi, Mila knew what she wanted. She could no longer pretend, hide behind her own cowardice.

She wanted him. She always had.

A light touch on her hand, made her breath hitch, and she felt her fingers tangle around his. And even if Georgi hadn’t said anything, it was enough. His eyes spoke for him, the hopeful glint in them. The warmth of his palm against hers.

Mila’s hand sneaked up and pulled his head lower.

“Yes?” she asked, because she had barely spoken, but she needed this confirmation. She needed to hear this. To be sure.

“Yes.” he replied.

And closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against her.

Mila had always looked him from afar. But this close, with the softness of his lips kissing hers, she stopped looking. And allowed herself to feel.

For once there was no expiration date.

Only the hope for a happy ending.


End file.
